


Porny Prompt Pile

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Cock Warming, Come Marking, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Sex, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Titty Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Just porny fics based on prompts.First chapter: Geraskier - blow job while standingSecond chapter: Geraskier - Jaskier riles Geralt into rough sex
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 95
Kudos: 689
Collections: Viv's Favorite Fics





	1. Prompt: Blow Job Standing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shrimp_Heaven_Now on Discord for the Prompt!

“I have an idea,” Jaskier had said. Geralt wasn’t entirely sure how that had led to this – holding Jaskier up by his thighs, mouthing at his skin, while Jaskier, upside down, sucked Geralt’s dick.

It was oddly intoxicating, knowing that he literally held Jaskier in his hands. The only thing holding the bard up were his hands lightly braced against the forest floor, and Geralt’s grip around his thigh. Geralt sucked at Jaskier’s inner thighs, avoiding his cock. Jaskier was fully undressed before him, while Geralt’s pants had only been untucked enough to expose his cock for Jaskier’s eager mouth.

“I want to feel the blood rushing to my head, making me lightheaded while I suck you off. I want your strength to hold me up and do whatever you want with me,” Jaskier had asked, and Geralt was happy to humor the whims of his bard.


	2. Prompt: Riling Geralt up to be rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier annoys Geralt until Geralt reaches his limit, throws him face first into the bedroll, and fucks him the way he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kazeetie on Discord for the prompt!

Jaskier was very skilled at being a brat. In fact, some might say it was his only skill, to which Jaskier would respond that he sang like an angel and anyone who said otherwise could meet him in the alley.

The point was, Jaskier was very good at being annoying. And annoying Geralt was one of his favorite hobbies, even before they started sleeping together.

But after? After, it became his absolute favorite thing to do. When Geralt got all riled up, instead of stomping off to find something to kill, he shoved Jaskier face first into their bedroll and took him roughly.

Jaskier had started preparing himself before riling Geralt up. It had the advantage of both getting them to the main event faster – which they both needed in that state – _and_ Geralt absolutely lost it at the sight of the wooden plug in Jaskier’s ass, keeping him loose.

Geralt growled low in his throat and twisted the plug, its tapered end brushing against his prostate. “This had better mean you don’t need any further prep.”

“Fuck, yes, please, Geralt, yes,” Jaskier panted into the bedroll. Geralt’s palm was splaying on his upper back, keeping his face pushed into the blankets and his arse held up high in the air.

“Good!” Geralt ignored Jaskier’s whine when he pulled out the plug, but Jaskier’s hole was filled a moment later with Geralt’s cock. “Because it’s all you’re getting. Better hope you used enough oil.”

Jaskier moaned loudly, his mouth drooling against their pillow as Geralt grabbed his hips in a bruising hold and thrust rapidly in and out of him, exactly as Jaskier had hoped.


	3. Prompt: Trans Geraskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witchers don't believe in top surgery. Magic helped Geralt look more masculine, but there would always be a certain weight to his chest. Jaskier introduces him to titty fucking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [mix_kid_a03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mix_kid_ao3/pseuds/mix_kid_ao3) on Discord for the prompt! I have been wanting to write titty fucking in this fandom for so long and now I was finally able to.

It wasn’t that Geralt hid his body – he didn’t much care about humanity’s nudity taboos. But it was also true that people to attribute the plushness of his chest to some sort of Witcher oddity.

It was, in a way. Witchers didn’t believe in top surgery – your body was your weapon, you couldn’t risk altering it. A little magic had helped lesson the curve of his hip, drop his voice deeper. But there were somethings he could never change – and the weight on his chest had always been one that he had never thought much about.

He was thinking about it now. Jaskier’s cock was rubbing between his tits, the head jabbing against the dip in his collarbone. Geralt had his hands on either side of his chest, pushing his tits together, giving Jaskier something to thrust into. Jaskier’s fingers twisted Geralt’s sensitive nipples, tugging at them to make Geralt moan.

Geralt hadn’t known what to think when Jaskier first suggested it. Now? Now all he could do was watch that cockhead poke out between his tits, slick with oil and precum. Geralt stuck out his tongue, trying to reach Jaskier, and when Jaskier thrust with more force, his cockhead touched Geralt’s tongue and he tried sloppily to lap up the leaking fluid.

He wanted Jaskier to come all over him and lick it all up, then eat him out. Geralt couldn’t find the words to ask, but the way he kept his chin down, tongue extended to lap at his cock each time it came in range seemed to give Jaskier the hint. 

“You want me to paint your tits, darling? Rub my cum all over them and then lap it all up?” Jaskier ran his fingernail around Geralt’s nipple, making him shiver. Geralt’s tongue was busy, so instead of responding, he wiggled his shoulders to slide down the bed just enough to suck the head of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Jaskier thrust through his tits once, twice, and then came across his chest, his stomach, his face. Geralt’s eyes fluttered and all it took was one more pinch to his nipple to send him over the edge, arching up against Jaskier’s weight.

They lay there together, catching their breath, before Jaskier grinned down at him. “I do believe I promised to do a few more things to you, didn’t I?”

Geralt gave a weak moan, but when Jaskier’s mouth sucked at his neck, Geralt wound his hand through Jaskier’s hair to keep him there.


	4. Prompt: Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Geralt stripped off the blood-spattered clothes, he'd forgotten that he'd slipped on the pink silk panties with lace trim he'd bought from a discreet shop in Novigrad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [beppi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beppi/pseuds/Beppi) on Discord

Geralt wouldn’t have worn them if he’d know his day would end with him covered in alghoul blood. He hadn’t expected a hunt today at all – but the road had taken them past a couple killed in a bandit attack. The alghouls had been the more pleasant part of cleaning that up.

The problem was that he’d forgotten his decision by the time they made camp for the evening near a clear lake. Geralt quickly began stripping out of his armor, ready to be clean again.

It was only the sudden silence from the talkative bard that made him realize something was amiss.

“Are those–” Jaskier choked, his eyes wide. Jaskier’s hands gestured to Geralt’s lower body, and he looked down with dread to realize that he was wearing the pink silk panties with lace trim that he’d picked up from a discreet shop in Novigrad.

Geralt had simply wanted to have something nice against his skin. His Witcher senses made wearing coarse materials a special kind of torment, and the silk made him feel nice.

No one was ever supposed to know about it. Geralt braced himself and looked up at Jaskier, scared to see disgust in his eyes.

Only Jaskier didn’t look disgusted. Actually, Geralt almost thought that expression might be hunger. For him?

“Can I?” Jaskier asked breathlessly. Geralt didn’t know what he was asking, but the heat in his gaze had Geralt nodding mindlessly.

Jaskier dropped to his knees and crawled forward until his face was level with Geralt’s panties. Geralt’s face was flushed with embarrassment, his heart rate unusually high for a Witcher. Jaskier didn’t help with that, as he leaned forward and sucked at Geralt’s cock through the fabric.

Geralt made a rough noise and curled his fingers into Jaskier’s hair, holding him close. Jaskier licked around the shape of him, wetting the silk, and sucked at his head. Jaskier reached up and snapped the lace trim against his skin, petting him through it.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Jaskier murmured against his dick. “Do you wear them often?”

Geralt tried to keep from squirming, his breath coming fast now. “O-only if I don’t think there will be a hunt.”

Jaskier pulled the top of his panties down far enough to free the head of his cock and sucked it down. When he pulled back, precum was smeared across his lips. “Do you have any idea how hot that is? You’re telling me that when we’re traveling, you’re wearing panties half the time!? Fuck,” Jaskier bit at his stomach just above the line of his underwear, and a surprisingly high pitched noise escaped Geralt when it tickled. “I’m going to make you come in these panties. The next time you wear them, you’ll know what I made you do.”

“Fuck, Jaskier, please,” Geralt pleaded, tugging on Jaskier’s hair.

“Have a little patience, my dear. I’m enjoying myself here.” With a slightly evil leer, Jaskier resumed sucking at the head of Geralt’s cock and licking at his shaft through the silk.


	5. Prompt: Consensual Somnophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier falls asleep warming Geralt's cock and wakes in the morning when Geralt starts moving against him, even while still asleep.

Jaskier had performed late into the night, so he wasn’t surprised to find Geralt already asleep. He was a bit disappointed, though – there was a restless energy following him that wasn’t going to let him sleep until he’d worked it out.

He would have liked to focus his energy on making Geralt feel good, on opening him up teasingly slow and taking him even slower. But Jaskier was exhausted, even with the restlessness crawling under his skin. He needed something that didn’t require any brainpower.

Geralt shifted in his sleep, the sheet dragging down across his thigh and giving Jaskier a perfect view of his soft cock. Gods, but Geralt’s cock was glorious. It was thick and long, and the head was so very sensitive. It was ideal, really. Jaskier was an absolute master at head, but he typically refrained from taking Geralt much deeper. He couldn’t risk making his throat sore fucking himself on Geralt’s cock very often, as much as the urge occasionally struck him.

Jaskier licked his lips, disrobing and crawling into bed with Geralt. They had talked about this before, and found themselves surprisingly compatible – Geralt craved a little pleasure to interrupt his nightmares, and Jaskier desperately needed something to do with his mouth. Their solution was perfect for them. Geralt liked it when Jaskier sucked him down in his sleep, liked it when Jaskier circled his cockhead with his tongue. He liked it when Jaskier brought him to orgasm in his sleep, when he woke up in the midst of pleasure.

Jaskier loved anything that Geralt loved, quite honestly. When it gave him the opportunity to suck on that fat cockhead all night, keeping his mouth pleasantly occupied? Jaskier was all for it.

He was too tired to bring Geralt to orgasm tonight, but as he settled down, his head resting on Geralt’s thigh and Geralt’s cock in his mouth, he felt that restless energy under his skin finally settle. He fell asleep suckling at Geralt’s cockhead.

––

It wasn’t the sunlight that woke him the next morning, but instead something pressing against the back of his throat. Jaskier came awake already sucking, already drooling. He was lying on his side, head cushioned next to Geralt thigh, and nose buried in Geralt’s balls. Jaskier inhaled deeply, idly thinking that every day should start with the taste and smell of Geralt.

Geralt’s hips were rocking forward slowly, aimlessly. From his breathing, he was still asleep. Jaskier hoped he was having a wonderful dream. And if not, Jaskier bet that he could change that.

He gripped Geralt’s hips and guided him to rock deep into his mouth. Jaskier had performed late last night. He’d earned plenty. Surely he could stand to wreck his voice for one day if it meant he could bring Geralt pleasure.

He sucked hard, bringing Geralt further down his throat with each thrust. He could taste salty precum on his tongue when he pulled back and forced himself down again, guiding Geralt’s hips to fuck his face. Geralt moaned in his sleep, sending a shiver of pleasure down Jaskier’s spine. Geralt was definitely having a good dream now, letting out sighs and moans under Jaskier’s touch.

Geralt’s hips started moving faster against him as he got close. Jaskier could tell the moment Geralt woke up, because his voice was rough from sleep as he growled out, “oh fuck, what?  _ Ah!”  _

Jaskier swallowed around the head of Geralt’s cock, and the Witcher fell apart against him, running a hand through his hair to hold him down. Jaskier obliged eagerly, breathing in through his nose and then sinking down further. When he came, Geralt groaned loudly and openly, not awake enough to censor himself. That was Jaskier’s favorite thing about doing this – well, that and the slight ache in the back of his throat. 

He shouldn’t enjoy it so much, not when it meant his voice would be raspy and hoarse for the rest of the day. Yet at the same time, Jaskier’s wrecked voice always made Geralt shiver and he loved feeling Geralt in the back of his throat, loved choking on that massive cock as Geralt fucked against him like he never wanted to stop, like Jaskier was made for this and nothing more. It was everything Jaskier dreamed of.

Besides, Geralt always took care of him after he wrecked his voice. Even now, pushing off the urge for his usual post-coital nap, Geralt pulled away and Jaskier whined as the cock he was still sucking at slid out of his mouth. Geralt rumbled a quiet laugh, running a hand through Jaskier’s hair and lifting him for a soft kiss. Jaskier sighed against him, feeling hazy and pleasant as Geralt brewed him a cup of tea. When it was ready, Geralt added honey and set it by the bed. When Jaskier struggled upright, Geralt slipped behind him and pulled him back against Geralt’s chest. Jaskier breathed in the steam from the tea and relaxed back into Geralt, tucking his head under Geralt’s chin.

“Thank you,” Geralt murmured in his ear.

Jaskier laughed, a low hoarse sound, and he could feel Geralt’s shiver. “Thank  _ you.  _ You know how much I love sucking your cock, Geralt. It’s far from a hardship.”

“Hmm,” Geralt pressed a kiss against the top of his head. “Shut up and drink your tea.”


	6. Prompt: Jaskier wearing Geralt's shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, Jaskier wearing Geralt's shirt really gets the Witcher going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Rosalee_Kenneth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosalee_Kenneth/pseuds/Rosalee_Kenneth)

Jaskier woke up when a gust of cold air blew across the bed from the window. Geralt was still sleeping beside him – a small miracle, as he typically jerked awake at the slightest movement. But Jaskier had tired him out last night, and he could still feel the evidence of their pleasure drying on his thighs. They really should have cleaned up before falling asleep, but sometimes Jaskier enjoyed waking up in their filth, waking up with  _ all _ the marks Geralt had left on him.

Another shiver interrupted his thoughts, and Jaskier wiggled out of the bed, pulling on the closest shirt to guard against the chill. The window latch struggled against him for a moment, but when he finally got it closed and locked, he turned back to see Geralt staring at him with hungry eyes.

“What?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head. The movement caused the shirt he was wearing to slip down his collar, since he hadn’t fastened it.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Geralt’s voice was a hoarse and rough with sleep in a way that sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“So I am,” he said, looking down to see that the loose sleeves around his arms did indeed usually hug Geralt’s biceps delightfully. The shirt gapped across Jaskier’s chest, and it was just long enough to brush the back of his knees. Jaskier smirked up at Geralt, fluttering his eyelashes. “Going to do something about it?”

Geralt growled, low and menacing, and rolled out of the bed in a single movement, completely bare. Jaskier looked him over, his smirk turning to a salacious leer. Before he could comment, though, Geralt strode forward and snagged Jaskier around the waist, pushing him forward into the wall. Geralt followed until he was pressed directly against Jaskier, and he buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“You should always smell like me,” Geralt rumbled, sucking at his skin.

Jaskier tilted his head against the wall with a soft  _ ah.  _ “I literally have your cum dried on my thighs, but sure, the shirt is what does it.”

Geralt let out a strangled sound.  _ “Do  _ you now?” His hands dropped down to the back of Jaskier’s thighs, and before the bard knew what was happening, he’d been hoisted up against the wall until Geralt could spread Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders. Then Geralt slid his hands under the hem of his own shirt until he could see the trail of white that had dripped down the inside of Jaskier’s thighs.

Jaskier moaned loudly when Geralt nipped at his inner thigh, spreading him wide for Geralt’s face. Held up only by Geralt, Jaskier’s stomach felt surprisingly fluttery, like it did when he was faced with heights. Only this time, it felt  _ good _ and made him want to squirm against Geralt’s hold, just to feel his fingers tighten. So he did.

Geralt made a snarling noise against him, sucking a dark mark onto his skin. His fingers curled into the tops of Jaskier’s thighs, pulling them further apart so he could suck one of Jaskier’s balls into his mouth. Jaskier arched against the wall, his hands scrabbling to stabilize himself. They tangled in Geralt’s hair and tugged, loving the feel of Geralt’s moan around him.

If he’d had any idea wearing Geralt’s clothes would work him up like this, Jaskier would have done it ages ago.

But as pleasant as this was, it was still rather cold here by the window. “Not that I’m not loving this,” Jaskier gasped when Geralt sucked at the base of his cock, “but,  _ ah,  _ the bed is right there. And much warmer.” He tugged at Geralt’s hair until he could meet his eyes. “You can make me smell like you all over again.”

Geralt growled against him, his tongue flicking out to curl around the base of Jaskier’s cock. He pulled away from the wall, easily balancing Jaskier on his shoulders. Even with his mouth occupied and his view blocked by Jaskier’s body, Geralt moved to the bed with unerring accuracy. When Geralt pulled his head away from Jaskier’s stomach and smirked, Jaskier really should have known he was going to be dropped. Instead, his bouncing landing pulled a loud yelp from his throat, and Geralt chuckled.

“All right, you brute,” Jaskier kicked at him, missing wildly. “If you’re done showing off, then get down here.”

“Oh, I’ll go down,” Geralt’s voice rumbled in his chest, and he plucked up a vial of oil on his way back to the bed. Jaskier watched him hungrily, eagerly, as Geralt crawled up the bed towards him. Geralt kissed him fiercely then left Jaskier panting as Geralt moved down his neck, sucking red marks in his wake. Finally, Geralt came to where the collar of his shirt covered Jaskier’s skin, and he nosed his way under the edge of the fabric, nipping lightly.

Jaskier moaned and pulled Geralt down until they could rock against each other. When Geralt couldn’t stretch the collar any further, he moved down to bite Jaskier’s stomach through the shirt, pushing the hem up as he moved down. He nipped sharply at the curve of Jaskier’s hip, resuming his position from earlier. Jaskier threaded his fingers through Geralt hair, guiding him down towards Jaskier’s cock. Geralt let himself be moved, sinking easily onto Jaskier’s cock. Geralt had always loved choking on cock. Jaskier grinned and pushed him down just the slightest bit further until Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut.

Geralt got back at Jaskier when he immediately pressed one finger in to the knuckle. He smirked around his mouthful as Jaskier hissed and arched away from the cold oil. Since he arched further into Geralt, it was hard to see this as a problem. Jaskier deliberately relaxed and Geralt added another finger, parting them just inside him rim so he could feel the stretch. Jaskier’s moan was loud and unrestrained. 

Geralt stretched him ever so slowly, the teasing bastard. Jaskier found himself mindless by the time he added a third finger. His hands were knotted in Geralt’s hair, thrusting wildly into Geralt’s throat. Jaskier could feel tears running down his face from the desperation and when his throat started to hurt, he realized he’d been wailing.

He tilted his head towards his chest to look at Geralt, and the bastard pulled off of Jaskier’s cock just to smirk at him. Jaskier felt no compunctions about shoving his head back down on his cock. From Geralt’s moan, he didn’t mind either. 

Geralt stretched his fingers wide, and Jaskier could feel the stretch, feel the way he was so empty. “Fuck, Geralt, please! In me, now!” He pulled Geralt up by his hair. Geralt liked a little bit of pain – and Jaskier loved that the man who could shake off his grip easily just to smirk at him also let himself be pulled around like a beast. 

Jaskier was ready for him to fuck like a beast. He shoved Geralt back and turned onto his hands and knees. “Make me yours, Geralt.”

Geralt practically snarled, gripping his hips tight. Jaskier hoped it would bruise. Then he didn’t think much else because Geralt thrust into him, fast and down to the hilt. It burned, but instead of pain, Jaskier felt his pleasure increase, making him more sensitive. “Yes, fuck, Geralt, move!”

Geralt growled and pointedly did not move. He held Jaskier’s hips against him and leaned forward to press his chest against Jaskier’s back. Geralt nosed along his neck, taking a deep breath. “You and me and sex,” he said, his voice a deep raspy growl after the fucking his throat had received. It made Jaskier moan and wiggle back against him. “The perfect smell on you.”

“Then you should make sure I always smell like it,” Jaskier joked. He choked on his laugh when Geralt bit sharply at his neck.

“Don’t tempt me, Bard.” Geralt started to move, drawing out and pushing forward gradually faster. His thrusts were deep, glancing over that spot inside him that made him shiver. “Or I might take you up on it.” He tucked his nose into Jaskier’s neck against and inhaled deeply. “Keep you in my clothing, plugged up full of my cum.” 

Jaskier moaned wildly, pushing back against Geralt. “Please please please,” he chanted.

Geralt thrust faster, directly against that spot. “You’d go around flirting in the tavern as you always do, but anyone who can smell it will know you’re full of me.”

Jaskier whined. He was so close, but he wanted this to last forever, wanted Geralt to keep promising him pleasure in that wrecked voice.

“You could even fuck them,” Geralt magnaminously offered. “Fuck into them while my plug sits in your ass, my cum makes your stomach swell.”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jaskier balanced on one shaking arm and reached his other hand down to fist his cock. He stroked furiously, desperately. 

“Because it doesn’t matter who you fuck, does it? The whole continent knows that you are  _ mine.”  _ Geralt bit down hard at the join of Jaskier’s shoulder and he wailed, shuddering under Geralt as he came.

Geralt stopped moving when he came, instead stroking his hands along Jaskier’s chest. It made him feel warm, even as his arm collapsed under him and Jaskier faceplanted in the sheets. Geralt chuckled and started to pull out, but Jaskier clenched tight.

“You promised,” he said. He wiggled until his head rest on his cross arms, presenting himself before Geralt. “You promised you’d fill me up.”

Geralt growled, leaning the rest of the way down to drape over Jaskier’s back again. “Oh, I will,” he promised, voice dark. “And you love that. I could keep you here all night, fill you up again and again and plug you up, and you’d love it, wouldn’t you?” He bit Jaskier’s ear. “We’d go down to breakfast and I would be able to smell you the whole time. Smell how you’re full of me, and how that makes you hot.” Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck. “You’d probably be ready to go again just from that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” Jaskier whimpered. He was oversensitive from his orgasm, but he loved the feeling, loved the way the fire in his belly grew at Geralt’s words. “Fill me up, Geralt, please! I want to be able to  _ feel _ the way I’m yours!”

Geralt grunted. His thrusts were growing frantic and Jaskier could hear him hold his breath right before he tumbled over the edge with a loud snarl. His fingers dug bruises into Jaskier’s hips and he dragged Jaskier’s hips back to bury himself as deep as he could and grinding against him as if he could get further. Jaskier could feel him pulsing inside him, feel the warm heat spread inside him and it made him moan his eyes fluttering. 

Geralt relaxed against him, pushing Jaskier down into the bed and remaining inside him. After a few final thrusts, Geralt knelt up and pulled out. “Mmm, look at you,” he leaned down, training kisses down Jaskier’s spine until he reached Jaskier’s arse. Once there, Geralt breathed deeply, scenting him. “You and me and sex. Perfect.”

Jaskier moaned, stretching languidly. “Did I mention,” he turned his head to smirk at Geralt. “I may have bought something for you recently. Can you grab the small wrapped package in my bag?”

Geralt furrowed his brow, but did as asked, wiping himself clean on his way. Jaskier closed his eyes when Geralt wandered out of view, but he knew what Geralt would find. He’d spent an entire day shopping for just the right item. Jaskier could hear Geralt’s breath catch as he unwrapped the sleek black marble plug. Jaskier had deliberately gotten something shallow enough that he should be able to walk around with it in, as long as it wasn’t for too long.

He was looking forward to testing it out.


	7. Prompt: power bottom Jaskier riding Geralt and just using him for pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets tied up and used for pleasure as Jaskier rides him, and he loves every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [sorawings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorawings/pseuds/sorawings).

“I want something a little different tonight,” Jaskier had started with. Geralt’s mind went a little fuzzy from how that led to this, but he was not complaining. This being naked and spreadeagle on the bed, hands and feet tied to the corners of the bed. He was gagged with a special toy Jaskier had acquired somewhere. It had a leather strap that went around Geralt’s head and felt soft against his cheek, and the gag itself was a carved wooden phallus that he could suck at to his heart’s content. There was also a soft leather strip wrapped tight around the base of his cock.

Jaskier knelt above him, naked and hard. A brief smirk was the only acknowledgement Jaskier gave him before he turned his back to Geralt and sank slowly onto his cock. 

Geralt was unable to thrust up, unable to move, and he was unable to make noise. All he could do was  _ feel _ and it was both torture and wonderful.

That was the point of tonight, Jaskier had said. “I want to use your cock like a toy,” he had murmured in Geralt’s ear, tugging his earlobe into his mouth. “Keep you hard and ride you until I’m good and satisfied. Would you like that?”

Geralt’s  _ yes _ had been breathy and hoarse, and Jaskier’s lips had curved up into a teasing grin before pulling out the rope.

Now, Jaskier rocked slowly against his cock and Geralt sucked furiously at the phallus gag, swallowing his moans. His pleasure was incidental tonight, even though it was all he could focus on. Tonight, his role was to serve Jaskier, to be everything Jaskier wanted. Geralt’s eyes fluttered as Jaskier began to move faster, rising on his knees and pulling out until one the tip if Geralt’s cock remained inside him, then shoved himself back down  _ hard _ and did it again and again. 

Jaskier moaned, taking his pleasure from Geralt, and it made something warm coil in his belly, spreading out to his limbs. He could be everything Jaskier wanted like this, could satisfy him fully just by giving up control, and it had the amazing bonus of leaving Geralt unable to build his usual walls against sensation.

The world was so overwhelming, it was only natural that Geralt, with his hyper enhanced senses, would want to block it out. That’s what he’d always told himself.

Somewhere along the way, the walls became his default. Now it wasn’t just the too-much smells and the too-loud noises that he blocked out. It was everything that made him vulnerable, everything that made him  _ care,  _ and sometimes, Geralt just wanted a break from it all. He wanted a break from feeling ashamed that he had all these feelings, from being frustrated that he couldn’t speak his feelings, from always feeling like he wasn’t enough.

Jaskier gave him that. In this moment, as Jaskier chased his own pleasure, he gave Geralt the gift of being able to do nothing except  _ feel.  _ His walls were useless here, his defenses could do nothing. Geralt was exactly where he wanted to be, and Jaskier forced him to  _ let _ himself have that.

The thought, combined with Jaskier riding him fiercely and the view of his cock disappearing into Jaskier’s ass sent him over the edge. Geralt groaned soundlessly into his gag, his hips trying and failing to jerk. Jaskier didn’t even stop, just kept riding him as he came, and  _ kept going. _

Small amounts of cum dribbled down Geralt’s cock and the leather strap around the base kept Geralt hard and sensitive. Pleasure and pain danced a complicated routine through his body and if he had any control over his body at all, he would have arched. Instead, he was motionless, forced only to  _ feel,  _ to feel as pain tipped back into pleasure and flashed behind his eyes again and again.

Geralt had no idea how long Jaskier had been riding him or how many times Geralt had come. His mind was fuzzy and blank and Geralt didn’t think he’d ever felt so calm, even as overstimulation tilted from pleasure to pain and back again.

At some point, the sensation crested and as Geralt let himself fade out of awareness, he hoped that Jaskier continued to seek his own pleasure. Geralt’s role tonight was to be a toy and he wanted to be perfect for his bard.

He awoke to a hand stroking softly over his cheek. His eyes fluttered open to see Jaskier smiling right in front of him. “Back with me, darling?” Jaskier asked, dropping a kiss on his nose.

Not yet feeling up to language, Geralt grunted. He was untied now, bundled up in their softest blankets. Jaskier was lying next to him, their legs entangled. He wrinkled his nose when Jaskier kissed it again, and Jaskier chuckled softly. 

“You were perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.” Jaskier kissed his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, then finally pressed their lips together properly. Geralt’s lips were swollen and sensitive from the pressure of the gag and Jaskier’s kiss made a moan rumble in his chest. 

Jaskier pulled back and pet across Geralt’s cheek again before pulling him forward to rest his forehead against Jaskier’s collar. Geralt closed his eyes and curled into Jaskier, letting his body drag him down to sleep.


	8. Prompt: Yennskier Fake Out Make Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer runs into Jaskier while they are both working to escape angry pursuers. When they duck into an alley, it only makes sense to pretend to be just another randy couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [ladivvinatravestia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladivvinatravestia/pseuds/ladivvinatravestia)  
> Somehow my fake out involves no make outs. So sorry about that.

“Quick, in the alley!” Yennefer ordered as she and the bard ran from a decidedly unhappy group of villagers and mage. She had pissed off the mages, and usually wouldn’t deign to run away on foot, but then she’d seen the idiot bard being pursued by villagers with pitchforks and well – Geralt would kill her if she let his bard get killed.

Jaskier changed direction with more grace than she would have expected from him, diving into the alleyway. Yennefer followed him and, hearing their pursuers grow closer, she pinned him up against the wall, melted his ostentatious and very recognizable doublet, and breathed in his ear. 

“They’re right behind us. We need to make them thing there’s nothing interesting to see here.”

The bard made an aggravated sound. “I’m always interesting, thank you.” He whispered. “But I take your meaning. Just another randy couple getting it on in the shadows.”

“So glad you understand.” Yennefer murmured. She watched him shiver as her lips brushed against his ear. “Get on your knees.”

She’d expected to have to explain that demand, that people, already uncomfortable with public displays of affection, rarely looked at the one on their knees, if they looked twice at all. But she didn’t need to – Jaskier dropped to his knees without question. Yennefer lifted her skirts until she was exposed before him, but covered from the sides and back. Just because she had to pretend did not mean she had to let assholes get a peek of more than they deserved.

Jaskier was only getting a peek because he was technically helping her escape from her pursuers to – and there was something terribly thrilling about the eagerness with which he had gone to his knees. She planted one hand against the wall, further shielding Jaskier, and held her skirts up high enough that he could duck his head under them.

Yennefer could hear their pursuers come closer and all she could think was that if this didn’t work, she would need to find the energy to create a portal, and she wasn’t sure she had it in her.

Well, that was  _ almost _ all she thought. The thing was, Jaskier’s face was nestled close to her crotch and his breath was warm against her. He was being proper, not touching her at all, and something in her suddenly wished he wasn’t so proper, wished that he would lick at her through her underthings, wished that he would drag his hands over her calves so she could see the way his lute calluses caught at her stockings.

With a shock of horror, Yennefer realized that she was wet. Jaskier’s breathing stuttered and she realized he was looking at the growing wet spot on her silken knickers. “Are you–”

Something in his voice made her clench, and she felt slickness running down her thigh. “No!” She lied despite the blatant evidence. “Why would I be? You’re intolerable!”

Jaskier shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re still curious if my mouth is as good as rumor says.” He winked at her. “I assure you, it is.”

“Ugh, shut up. Every word you speak makes you more intolerable.” She bit her lip, shifting her weight so her thighs rubbed together. “Perhaps this is the best way to shut you up.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jaskier smirked, running his hands up to her waistband and stroking his fingers across it in question. Yennefer grit her teeth and nodded and he eased her knickers over her ass and down her thighs. When her thighs parted to let them fall, she was hit with the smell of herself and marveled. She didn’t think she’d been this wet for anyone in a very, very long time, if ever. What was it about this irritating bard that was working for her?

Jaskier drew one of her legs over his shoulder, kissing up her wet thigh. He rested his a hand on her other side, callus catching against her body hair like she had thought it would. Yennefer bit back a moan.

Jaskier licked over her lips in broad strokes and then focused on her clit.” Yennefer gasped, her head falling forward where she was bent just the slightest bit over him. Like this, she could see the way his cheeks were already soaked with her. When he dipped his tongue inside her, she wished she had a free hand to pull him closer.

But she didn’t need to. Once he knew she was receptive, he positively buried himself in her folds, nose pressed against her clit. He couldn’t possibly breathe like that, but he didn’t pull back. She felt his tongue thrust deep inside her, stroking over her inner walls. Yennefer dug her teeth into her lip to keep from letting out any of the noises that built in her chest. Her leg began to tremble and Yennefer could feel her hips start to jerk beyond her control. She fisted her hands, one against the wall, the other in the folds of her skirts. 

When she came, it was only because she focused all of her willpower on not giving Jaskier the satisfaction of a moan that she remained silent. Yennefer ground down against him and he eased her through her orgasm.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping for air, and his face was absolutely  _ drenched  _ in her. Yennefer shivered and decided she liked that sight an awful lot.

Jaskier licked his lips. “I think they’re gone.”

“What?”

“The angry mob. I think they’re gone, so the coast should be clear now.” Jaskier lowered her leg down to the floor and released her only once he was certain she could hold her own weight. Then he leaned back, crouching against the wall. There was a tent in the front of his trousers, but he made no move to tend to it, nor did he ask her to. 

Yennefer felt a smile tugging at her lip and squashed it ruthlessly. Still, it was nice to have someone so focused on her pleasure that the entire encounter centered around it. She’d never had someone prioritize her like that.

As she dropped her skirts down and offered Jaskier a cloth to clean his face, Yennefer decided that she liked it. She might even see if he was up for more.


	9. Prompt: Geralt frotting against Jaskier’s bedroll, scent kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Geraskier Fun Day Discord

It was wrong, Geralt knew. It was wrong to be doing this when Jaskier could return from his bath in the creek at any moment. And it was wrong to be doing this thinking about his friend, his traveling companion, one of the only people in the world who looked at a witcher and thought  _ friend. _

It was wrong, but that didn’t stop Geralt from turning over and burying his face in Jaskier’s bedroll. When Jaskier had stated his desire for a bath, Geralt had gruffly agreed to pack up camp, but in truth, he’d been desperate for Jaskier to leave, already thinking of doing this. He inhaled deeply, surrounded by the smell of Jaskier, and ground his hips down against the bedroll. 

He and Jaskier didn’t actually have specific bedrolls that were theirs. Both of them belonged to Geralt because Jaskier couldn’t be bothered to actually buy any survival gear whatsoever, and instead had spent his coin on a gaudy belt. Geralt could have assigned each of them a specific bedroll, but the truth was, he liked it when he switched their bedrolls and got to sleep surrounded by the smell of his bard, his own scent mixing with Jaskier’s slowly but surely.

Too slowly, sometimes. Sometimes, Geralt just  _ needed _ to be able to smell them together, to be able to pretend that Jaskier was truly his. That Jaskier’s scent surrounded him because they spent their nights truly together, not because Geralt switched their bedrolls again.

Growling in frustration, Geralt reached down to release his cock. The fabric of the bedroll was as soft as Geralt had been able to afford – a luxury he only allowed because he’d known Jaskier would whine relentlessly otherwise – and it was difficult to get the friction he wanted. Still, Geralt fisted his hands in his own hair rather than touching himself, face buried in the sewn-in padded pillow, and hips rutting against the bedroll. When he began leaking, when he left wet streaks against the fabric, Geralt purred. He would have to wash it before switching with Jaskier again, but for now, the scent of his lust mixed with Jaskier’s smell – the slight tang of citrus, the sweetness of dandelions, the husk of cloves, and that underlying delicate, earthy scent that made Geralt forever associate the bard with chamomile. 

Geralt’s hips jerked as he thought about the way Jaskier’s hands had felt against his shoulders as the bard spread chamomile oil over bruised skin and aching muscles. Jaskier had been surprisingly amenable to Geralt’s leading grunts and shirtless lounging – it wasn’t as if he could just  _ ask _ for a massage – and had truly proven how skilled his fingers were, working out the knots and kinks in his back. Geralt had tried to hide the way his spine had melted into the bed, but Jaskier must have noticed, because he’d offered massages fairly regularly after rough hunts.

Geralt hoped his next hunt would be rough. Not that he wanted to get injured. But he wanted – Geralt had to bite the pillow to stifle a moan – he wanted Jaskier to touch him so very softly, as if he might actually want him. And next time, he didn’t want Jaskier to stop when his fingers massaged Geralt’s ass.

The first time Jaskier had continued down from the small of his back to his ass, Geralt had honestly thought he might have gotten his wish. He also might have had to bite his arm  _ hard _ to keep from moaning at the sheer pleasure that thought had given him.

But though Geralt had melted under his touch, Jaskier hadn’t gone any further. Instead of parting his cheeks and sliding those talented fingers inside him, the bard had continued down his thighs and calves. 

But here in Geralt’s fantasy, as he thrust against the bedroll, Jaskier  _ didn’t _ stop. Instead, he squeezed Geralt’s ass and then took Geralt’s hands and forced him to hold himself open as Jaskier took advantage of all that chamomile oil to press two fingers against Geralt’s hole.

Geralt groaned against the bedspread, forgetting any need to be quiet. He was caught up in his fantasy, caught up in a world where Jaskier’s smoky voice teased him,  _ “You won’t need much prep, will you? Not a pretty little slut like you, who fucks himself at every opportunity. You think I don’t notice the way you hoard the chamomile oil to finger yourself open?” _

Geralt’s hips jerked wildly. He wished he had the time right now to finger himself open, but there was some reason he couldn’t, some reason why he was supposed to be quick about this. But he couldn’t quite remember what it was, not when he imagined Jaskier rumbling in his ear.

_ “You’re so loose already, aren’t you, you beautiful darling slut? You’re practically gaping around my fingers.” _

With a groan, Geralt stuck his own fingers in his mouth, too far gone to search for the oil. Then he reached down to thrust two fingers into himself. His breath caught in his chest, silencing the desperate noise he made.

_ “You’ve been preparing yourself for me, haven’t you, Geralt?”  _ Jaskier murmured,  _ “you’ve been gagging for it ever since the first time you caught sight of my cock. I would have taken you then if I could have, but you weren’t ready for me yet, were you?” _

Geralt made a low sound as he stretched his fingers and added a third. It burned, his saliva not enough to truly slick the way, but right now, Geralt didn’t care. He needed to be filled, needed  _ Jaskier _ to fill him. He could feel moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes, and with a spike of humiliation, Geralt realized he was so desperate for Jaskier that he was on the edge of tears.

_ “But you’re nice and loose now, aren’t you? You’re ready for me to take you, to fill you and fuck you until I’m imprinted so deep into your body, you’ll never be rid of me.” _

“Please,” Geralt whined, stretching his fingers as wide as he could. This angle was less than ideal, but he couldn’t stop rutting against the bedroll, couldn’t stop spreading his own scent over Jaskier’s lingering one. 

Geralt inhaled deeply and breathed in the smell of Jaskier and sex and him, all mixed together exactly as they should be. He could even almost catch a whiff of the spicy scent of Jaskier’s arousal – so ever present when the bard was awake, but the one part of his scent that never lingered on anything Geralt had of Jaskier’s. The one part of Jaskier’s scent that he craved more than anything, for Jaskier’s arousal and attention to be focused on him.

He’d be so good for Jaskier, such a willing hole for Jaskier to pull his fingers out of and slide right into.

His fantasy almost seemed to stutter, looping back to repeat itself as Geralt felt a rush of cold air against his back, and then a gentle grip pulling his fingers out of himself.

But instead of filling him, Jaskier only soothed him with a whispered, “now, now, darling, you’re going to hurt yourself without more slick.”

“Mmmnh?” Geralt grunted.

“Shhh,” a hand stroked his flank, and the strong scent of chamomile suddenly burst around them. A moment later, cool oil was poured right over his hole and Geralt’s cock jerked with a gush of precum. “You’re so thoughtful, to prepare yourself for me, but I’m not going to hurt you, darling.”

Geralt moaned, “please.”

“Patience. I’ve thought about this for far too long to rush through it.” Jaskier pressed three fingers into his hole, pushing more oil in. When he spread his fingers, Geralt stretched easily around them. “You truly have prepared for me, haven’t you?” Jaskier’s voice was filled with awe and some part of Geralt pinged in alarm, but he shoved it aside in favor of everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Jaskier’s hips ground down against Geralt’s thigh as he added a fourth finger, and Geralt shivered at the long drag of Jaskier’s cock against his skin. He was so ready to feel that inside him, truly had been ready since the first time Jaskier had undressed in front of him to bathe in a river and Geralt had seen the truly impressive manhood Jaskier possessed. Geralt considered himself decently well endowed, but he may as well have been a finger’s width in comparison to Jaskier’s cock.

Jaskier pushed Geralt’s shirt up until it was bunched uncomfortably under his armpits, but he hardly cared when the movement was followed by Jaskier’s lips pressing against his back, sucking marks along his spine. 

“Should have done this ages ago,” Jaskier’s lips moved against Geralt’s skin as he spoke and Geralt couldn’t help the way the tears in his eyes welled over at that.

“Please, I need you inside me, please!” Geralt begged, uncaring for dignity in the face of actually getting fucked by Jaskier. “I need your scent on me, in me,  _ please!” _

Jaskier moaned, pulling his fingers out hastily. Then, finally, Geralt felt a wet cockhead press against his hole, slowly pushing forward until Jaskier’s pelvis ground against his ass.

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier panted. “That’s the easiest  _ anyone _ has ever taken me.” His hips jerked back and then thrust deep again. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

“Yes,” Geralt cried. Jaskier’s heat lay all across his back, and Jaskier’s breaths puffed against his ear, making him shiver. This was real, this was actually happening. Jaskier was actually taking him, actually fucking into him with short little thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted, Geralt? All those nights you went off with random men instead of me – you were getting yourself ready, weren’t you? So that you would be perfect for me, a perfect hole for me to fuck.”

Geralt cried out brokenly, his hips rolling desperately between the bedroll and the heavy weight of Jaskier inside him, atop him, all around him. The spice of arousal coiled through both of their scents and it was everything Geralt had always wanted, for the smells of Jaskier and himself and sex and lust to be combined. 

With a whine, Geralt came apart, making a mess of the bedroll under him. Jaskier had stopped thrusting the moment Geralt started to cum, but he gentled Geralt through his orgasm, guiding Geralt’s hips to rock his cum deeper into the bedroll.

“Don’t stop,” Geralt managed, his eyelids heavy with pleasure and relaxation. He was exactly where he was meant to be, underneath Jaskier and under his control. His body felt like it was melting into the bedroll, totally limp for Jaskier to move as he needed so that he could get off.

“Fuck, Geralt. I knew you were a filthy slut, but my imagination was no match for how beautiful you are stretched wide around me, how perfect your willing little hole is for my cock.” Jaskier’s thrusts were rougher now, concerned only with seeking his own pleasure and Geralt moaned softly into the pillow. 

He wanted to be filled with Jaskier, wanted to keep Jaskier’s scent in him, on him, all around him forever. Geralt forced relaxed muscles to clench around Jaskier, milking him into orgasm. He thrust deep as he came, fingernails digging into Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s breath puffed out in a great gusty sigh against Geralt’s cheek, and he could feel the spreading warmth inside him that meant Jaskier was marking him with his scent.

They lay there like that, Jaskier draped over Geralt, who was slumped on the open bedroll atop the spreading wet spot. Geralt nuzzled the bedroll with a purr. Now it would definitely smell like him and Jaskier mixed together. His eyes fluttered shut, and Geralt was more than ready to drop off to sleep like that, with Jaskier as his blanket and still plugging him full.

Jaskier, it seemed, had different plans and began to pull away. Geralt couldn’t help the bereft sound that escaped him, but he made sure to gentle his grip on Jaskier’s upper thigh. Jaskier hesitated, still half inside him.

“You,” when Jaskier licked his lips, Geralt could feel the tip of his tongue just barely glancing over his skin, “you want to stay like this?” 

Geralt grunted, too suffused with pleasure to pick up the note of anxiousness in Jaskier’s voice, too content to let the thought of reality penetrate his mind.

“Okay,” Jaskier breathed out softly, hope peeking through his tone. He dropped his weight back over Geralt, sheathing his cock fully inside Geralt again. Geralt purred, stretching and arching back into Jaskier. Jaskier nuzzled into the the hair at the back of his neck. “If I’m dreaming, I hope I never wake up.”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled, and let exhaustion drag his eyelids down. A short nap before reality intruded sounded perfect. 

Later, Jaskier would force him to actually talk about his feelings, to make sure they were on the same page. But for now, Geralt let the comfortable weight of Jaskier drag him to sleep. Jaskier himself took longer to drift off, but he was more than content to just hold Geralt close as Jaskier’s cock slowly softened inside him. 


	10. Prompt: Yennalt Yenn body worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For kittyw9171 on tumblr!  
> Prompt was "I would like to see something with top geralt n bottom yen like he takes care of her shows her how much he loves her maybe body worship in front of the mirror. Her being insecure cuz its just magic but he shows her its more than the pretty package he’s interested in", and I kinda diverged from that, but I hope you like it anyway!

Geralt might not have recognized her, if it weren’t for the blazing determination in her purple eyes. “Yennefer?” he called softly.

The hunchbacked woman grit her teeth, showcasing the way her jaw refused to line up correctly.

“What happened?” 

“None of your business,” Yennefer snapped. “You’ve seen me, now be on your way!” Then she turned away, as if he weren’t worth her time.

Geralt blinked. Usually their meetings were a lot more – well, desperate and horny, quite honestly. But there was something about Yennefer that caused his heart to beat fast and made him want to be better, to be worthy of this powerful woman who would settle for nothing less than what she wanted.

He’d thought maybe she wanted him. 

“Why?” Geralt asked. Had he done something wrong? He was always making missteps with people, too unused to the rules of society. But usually they told him in detail exactly how he had offended them.

He wasn’t sure what he might have done to Yenn to make her change her mind about him.

Or maybe this had always been coming. He swallowed with a click. “What did I do?”

“What?” Yennefer turned back to him, her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You...told me to leave?” Geralt gestured vaguely. “So what did I do?”

Yenn tilted her head. “Why would you want to stay? You cannot possible want me like this.”

Geralt blinked at her. “Like...what?”

Her glare clearly told him to stop being an idiot. But he truly didn’t understand. It’s not as if he hadn’t known Yennefer looked different before Aretuza fixed her up. But what did that matter. “You’re you. Why would I care what you look like?”

She narrowed her eyes as she looked him over assessingly, but he got the sense that she wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that whatever had happened truly didn’t change his interest.

“I could show you?” Geralt offered.

“Show me–?” Yenn’s eyebrow still arched perfectly, even if her body was different.

“That I,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “That I want you. How I want you.”

“Hmm,” she contemplated his offer, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “And what would you have me do,” she asked snidely, “go to my knees?”

“No? How would that prove anything to you?” Geralt’s face contorted in confusion. If any of them went to their knees, it was typically him, and he was more than okay with that.

He stepped closer to her. “May I?” he asked when he hovered a breath away from her. Her mouth quirked, amused and pleased that he still asked for permission, even after all their liaisons together. She met his lips, though, and he kissed her softly, trying to portray everything he felt. 

Geralt was shit at words, he knew that. But he could do actions, he could show what he felt through his behavior. That’s why he slowly walked her backwards with a steadying hand on her hip until her knees came into contact with the chair. Then he pulled back from her lips and dropped to his knees with a slight smirk.

Yenn huffed in amusement, but she sat down primly, waiting to see what he would do next. 

What he did was cup his hand around her ankle and lift it up so that he could remove her heeled sandal. He undid the finicky little straps and slid it off, then pressed a kiss to the top of her foot. Then he kissed around to the knob of her ankle before rotating her leg gently and kissing up the sensitive inside of her calf. Yenn shivered in his grasp and Geralt grinned against her skin. He nipped lightly at the meat of her calf and her leg twitched against him. 

When he reached her knee, instead of pushing up her dress and continuing to lavish attention to her thighs, he switched to her other leg. Pulling off her shoe, he kissed and licked up her foot and ankle until that leg was twitching in his hands too. 

Then he looked up to meet her eyes, still aflame with challenge, and spread her knees as wide as he could in the chair. They both knew his cocked eyebrow was really him asking for permission, but Yennefer didn’t speak her approval. Instead, she hooked her right leg over his shoulder and demanded that he, “get on with it!”

“At your service,” he murmured, licking at the back of her left knee where she was ticklish. She jerked with a small sound and tangled a hand in his hair, pulling lightly. Geralt could feel his trousers growing tight and he enjoyed the way his shoulders relaxed a little more with each tug at his scalp. She wasn’t directing him yet, just reminding him that she could, that he was hers to use and command.

Geralt wouldn’t have it any other way.

He lingered on her thighs, nuzzling into the hair there. His thumbs brushed softly over the outside of her right thigh, keeping it balanced on his shoulder, and he knew his sword calluses were driving her crazy when she tightened her fist in his hair. He kissed and licked and sucked at her inner thighs until she was squirming in her chair and he could smell the evidence that she wanted this, that he could get her wet and desperate.

“Geralt,” Yenn murmured, pulling on his hair. Geralt looked up at her and felt awe that he was able to put her in this state. Her dress was rucked up above her hips and her face and chest were flushed red. With her free hand, she had unbuttoned enough of her dress to cup and squeeze her tits and Geralt’s mouth watered at the idea of sucking at them until her nipples peaked into hard nubs.

But he had another job to do, and as he inhaled deeply, he knew his heated look was affecting her, because the scent of her slick grew stronger. Geralt continued his line of teasing kisses up her thigh until he could nuzzle his nose into her pubic hair, breathing in deeply. Her scent was slightly different down here, so close to her core. Still lilac and gooseberries, but with the spicy hint of arousal and the musk of sweat and the slight tang as she grew wetter. 

Her cunt was pink and swollen, shiny with arousal, and he reached out to part her folds until he could run his tongue in a long swipe around her clit. Yenn inhaled sharply, but didn’t reward him with any other sound, so he continued, alternating long licks with circling his tongue around her clit. When she finally made a rough sound her her throat, he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it.

Yenn’s grasp on his hair tightened almost to the point of too much, but the sparks of pain just made his body relax further into her, his cock leaking inside his pants. He could touch himself – she hadn’t told him not too – but he found that he wasn’t really interested in his own pleasure, not when Yennefer taunted him with little grunts and moans as he worked at her.

He didn’t have a free hand anyway, because Yenn demanded, “fingers!”, and he slid two into her, marvelling at how wet and loose she already was. He curled his fingers slightly as he thrust in tempo with his tongue until she was grinding up against his mouth. Yennefer held him against her by his hair and rocked back and forth between his tongue and his fingers, using him to get off.

He could hear her panting roughly until she held her breath, hips bucking out of her control. Then she released her breath in a long, contented sigh and his fingers, his hand, and his chin were drenched in her.

When she let go of his hair and let him draw back, Geralt licked his lip, chasing the taste of her. He brought his hand up to lick it clean and he could feel her heated gaze on him the entire time, her panting breaths echoing in his ears.

He had done that, he had brought her pleasure and made her go all loose and relaxed. He was the one responsible for the satiated look on her face, the lazy blink of her eyelids as she slumped back into the chair, practically melting into it.

Geralt rested his head against her thigh, chest rumbling with a contented purr as her fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp. 

“I believe you,” Yenn’s soft voice finally broke the silence that had fallen over them.

Geralt blinked his eyes open to look at her, not quite feeling up to words yet. “Mm?”

“That you – that this body doesn’t matter. I believe you.”

Oh, that was good. Geralt smiled lazily up at her, pleased. He’d done something good and Yennefer was happy with him. That was all that mattered. He nuzzled into her thigh, nose twitching slightly as the hair tickled it.

Yennefer kept stroking through his hair and she didn’t order him to get up and move, so Geralt let himself luxuriate in the moment, in the knowledge that he’d brought her pleasure, and before he knew it, he was half asleep in Yenn’s lap, the smell of her consuming his senses and making him feel at peace.


	11. Prompt: Soft Geraskefer smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [anais-ninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anais_ninja)! Happy belated birthday!!

Yennefer typically made sure that they had the best bed available in any new town they came across, even if it meant kicking out its previous occupants. Geralt would complain, really he would. It was just – the mayor of Spalla had been a dickish impediment through every step of this contract, and his bed was  _ really _ comfortable.

Geralt was learning that first hand as he woke up with the first rays of dawn, shining in through the wide glass windows. As soon as the sun reached Yennefer’s face, it would magically be repelled, of course – Yenn did  _ not _ like being woken up before she was good and ready to wake up. But until then, Geralt could enjoy the way his lovers’ skin looked lit up golden by the sun. 

Jaskier lay on his back, a leg flung over one of Yennefer’s, and Geralt found himself fascinated with the contrast between their skin, the way the sun’s rays made both of them look darker and healthy.

Speaking of healthy, Jaskier’s blood flow was certainly healthy, as the flushed cock hard against his stomach proved. Geralt licked his lips, his mouth already watering. He wiggled down the bed until he could squirm between Jaskier’s legs and take the head of his cock into his mouth.

He kept things slow and lazy – there was no need to rush. They had nothing particular to do today and his lovers enjoyed a nice sleep in, even though Geralt couldn’t help waking at dawn. But a good orgasm – that would knock him out for a nice while until they could all get up together. 

They’d talked about this before, enjoying each other while they slept, and Geralt wasn’t the only one who occasionally liked to fall asleep with something in his mouth. Or to use pleasure to ease the transition to sleep. They all had troubled sleep at times, but orgasms tended to help release most of that tension, until all that was left was the contentment and knowledge that the three of them were together. 

Jaskier never fully came awake, body exhausted after having enjoyed a full evening with a witcher and a sorceress. He hardly had anything left to give and Geralt suckled his cock with a mournful sound. 

“Don’t whine,” Yenn’s rough voice startled him as her fingers threaded through his hair. 

She opened her legs in invitation and he immediately wiggled between her thighs, nuzzling his face into her folds. She must have been watching him with Jaskier because she was already wet, though she seemed content to let him choose his own pace, the hand in his hair holding rather than guiding.

“You do so love to taste the way you bring us pleasure, don’t you?” She asked, voice gravely from sleep.

Geralt moaned, a small sound hidden against the heat of her against his face. He licked into her, savouring the way her taste blended with Jaskier’s. His hips rolled against the bed and his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. He’d never thought he could have this, never thought that two such incredible people would not only understand what he wanted, but be willing and happy to give it to him.

He and Yennefer had come together in a wild whirlwind, completely the opposite of how he and Jaskier had become a pair. He’d so feared that either of them would be at odds with each other, especially as he began to realize he wanted more from Yennefer than sex.

He needn’t have feared. Jaskier and Yennefer didn’t always get along, but jealousy had never been their issue. Everything else, yes – Geralt swore they could manage to argue over what color the sky was – but being with Geralt had never been a problem. At least, not after Triss had sat them all down and forced them to actually acknowledge and talk about their feelings.

Because Witchers had feelings, and neither of his partners had ever doubted that. They knew that he felt as much and as deeply as they did – and had the same trouble admitting to his feelings as they did. 

Together, the three of them managed to sand out the edges of their relationship, and now, Geralt never had to fear that they would leave him or hate him for not being able to choose. 

Geralt wasn’t sure when he came, but at some point, he became aware of rocking his sensitive dick into a wet spot that hadn’t been there before. As always, he could feel the siren’s call of sleep riding the tailcoat of his pleasure and his eyes fell half-lidded as he continued to lick lazily into Yennefer. 

Yennefer gripped his hair, grinding up into his face as his mouth grew slack with the lure of sleep. His eyelids fluttered, getting harder to open each time, but he wanted to see Yennefer fall apart, wanted to feel her come against him. Time stretched oddly as he resisted the heavy weight on his eyelids, and finally, he was rewarded with the view up Yennefer’s body as her stomach and chest heaved in panting breaths and evidence of her pleasure drenched his face.

With that sight fixed in his mind, he finally let himself stop resisting the call of sleep and was only half aware as Yennefer pulled on his hair to drag him up into her arms. Behind him, he could feel Jaskier roll into him, cuddling into his warmth, and Geralt let himself drift away with the taste of his lovers on his tongue and their bodies wrapped around him.


	12. Prompt: Bathtub Geralt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has a little solo fun with his bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to [The_Devils_Palace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Devils_Palace/pseuds/The_Devils_Palace)! Hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t often that Geralt got the chance to relax in hot water with no need to rush and no concerns about getting interrupted. It was a nice change, and he intended to enjoy every moment of it.

With a satisfied sigh, he sank deeper into the tub, resting his head against the rim. He cast  _ igni,  _ and the water bubbled with heat, leeching the tension from his muscles. Geralt fully intended to stay in the water until he was forced to move. He swished his hand through the water, enjoying the way the water pushed against him, just enough resistance to feel nice when he overcame it. 

This kind of peace was so rare for him that it only seemed right to take full advantage of it. He brought his hand towards his chest, pushing the water forward in a rushing current over his nipple. The sensation made him shiver, eyes falling closed. He didn’t touch directly quite yet, fingers playing in the water to push little shoves of sensation against sensitive skin. 

Geralt liked to tease himself, liked to draw things out, though he rarely had the time and inclination to truly luxuriate. But now, with no contracts, no commitments, and no expectations upon him, he could soak for as long as he wanted.

He switched sides, teasing his other nipple and enjoying the way arousal slowly simmered under his skin. Soon, urgency would boil up and he wouldn’t be able to resist touching, but for now, he brought his other hand down to splash water along his cock, feeling the tickle of air bubbles struggling to the surface along with the light brush of water down his length. His next exhale carried a moan that echoed around the room. But that was okay, because he was alone, with no one to interrupt him. He could be as loud as he wanted and that freedom had him relaxing further into the water, spreading his legs.

Geralt fluttered the water along his inner thighs, squirming his hips at the way tingles spread in the wake of each brush of water. His fingers drifted further down, prodding waves of water over his hole. He clenched at the feeling and bit his lip. Draped across the tub like this, he wouldn’t be able to fill himself very deeply, but his jaw went slack just at the thought that he might be able to indulge himself, might be able to slowly stretch his rim and tease himself until he was driven mad. It had been so long since he’d had the chance.

He slung one knee over the rim and braced his other foot against the bottom of the tub, spreading his legs wide. He skimmed his fingers over his cocked knee and slowly let his fingertips brush through the hair on his thigh. Shivering at every touch, his blood rushed to his cock, plumping it as his fingers gradually inched closer. But he wouldn’t touch yet. It was too soon to give into the urge, not when something else called to him. When his fingers reached the crease where his thigh met his hips, Geralt tangled them through his pubic hair, circling the base of his cock. Then he edged down and rolled his balls in his hand. They were heavy and full, more than ready for him to get on with it.

Geralt huffed a laugh, his head tilted back. Maybe he’d treat himself with a few more sessions after his bath. But for now, he wanted to go slow, wanted to savour the building tension and anticipation coiled in his gut. So he released his balls and pressed two fingers the sensitive spot behind them, rubbing his fingers in little circles.

He moaned loudly and his cock leaked white droplets that floated away in the water. It really had been a while, and he wanted to feel  _ good. _ He let his ring finger trail back from that sensitive spot to brush over his hole instead, feeling it clench against the light pressure. A shudder traveled down his spine, making his shoulders rock against the rim of the tub. Fuck, but he’d  _ missed _ this, missed the feeling of lazy pleasure seeping through his limbs, missed the feel of something against him, inside him, stretching him wide and filling him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

But he was getting ahead of himself. For now, he would take things slow, build the pleasure and the stretch gradually. After all, he had all the time in the world. And later, after his bath, he could dig his toys out of the bottom of his saddlebags and truly fill himself until he couldn’t take anymore. 


End file.
